‘I dunno. But it can’t have been for nothing, can it? Not if they thought I was snitching on them.’

‘After the woman left you and before they came to take you away, you said two more hours passed. Did anything else happen?’

‘Nah.’ His tone had changed, as if he was now bored.

‘You’re sure.’

‘Yeah.’

‘And you saw no one else.’

‘Nah.’

‘Do you know anything of what happened to the others?’

‘Nah.’ He paused, squinting his face. ‘Not really anyway.’ He seemed more interested again.

‘Go on.’

‘You don’t give up, do you?’

She laughed. ‘Sorry!’

‘I did hear a few years ago Asif’d gone down to Birmingham and was training as a chef. Poisoning the customers probably.’ He smiled with a tinge of fondness and regret. ‘Dunno about the others. Never saw them.’

She had got all that would be of any use – time to move on. She stretched back her shoulders. ‘I’d love to stay here talking, Sami, but I’d better go.’

‘Yeah, suppose you had.’ He stood up alongside her. ‘I’ll get your coat.’ She’d expected him to want her to stay and chat more but it seemed he was drawing a line too. ‘So what you do next?’ he asked, handing her the coat.

‘You mean after what you told me?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Nothing. I’ll make a private note just for myself, no names or places or dates. It all sheds some light.’ She locked eyes with him. ‘I told you, Sami, I’d never do anything without your permission.’

‘Yeah, but I was thinking something. If you had that file, why didn’t you just come and knock on the door and ask to speak to me.’

‘If I’d done that, do you honestly think you’d have let me in? Didn’t we have to get to know each other first? To like each other the way I like you now? To trust each other?’

‘Yeah, but what you did wasn’t trusting, was it? How can I be sure?’

‘You can be sure, I’ve given you my word.’ As she put on the coat, he brushed past her to open the door. She turned onto the pavement, never looking back, niggled by the realisation that it hadn’t gone the way she expected. She felt the heat of Sami’s eyes on her back as she retreated up Gent Street.

Patrick was waiting around the corner. Sara checked behind, then joined him in the car.

‘Productive?’

‘Yes. After a sticky start.’ She explained Sami’s initial interrogation of her and gave him the headlines of his story. ‘Quite a charge sheet,’ she concluded, ‘kidnapping, false imprisonment, actual bodily harm.’

‘But just his account,’ he said.

‘Still, it doesn’t feel like a one-off. There was a team. It was organised.’

‘Sure. But what for? Why?’